


Dearest the Shadows

by KaelsMiscellany



Series: Indulge the Other [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU - Season 1, F/M, Magic (kind of), Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm Peter,” he holds a hand out for her to shake, but she doesn't take it.</p><p>“And I'm not going to tell you my name,” she gives him her brightest smile.</p><p>The disappointed pout he gives is both amusing and a smidge terrifying. “I'm not sure if your parents are truly horrible people, or if that's an invitation to see you again.”</p><p>Terrifying and <i>clever</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The last day of Pydia week? Say it isn't so! (Though considering I'll probably post part two tomorrow, it's really the second to last for me).
> 
> Inspired by [ this](http://fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment.tumblr.com/post/31018583786/sunscraps-asiandog-genuinelylarry-what-if).
> 
> Title comes from "Gloomy Sunday" by Billie Holiday.

Everyone knows about the tattoos, but no one ever really talks about them. All you're ever told in school is that they're for you to figure out on your own.

For someone like Lydia, that's the most frustrating answer anyone can give. Not that she's lazy and expects the answers to be handed to her, but 'figure it out on your own' is a non-answer at best and she hates those.

Lydia's first tattoo appeared when she was thirteen, the first in her peer group to get one, making her the envy of the whole middle school. It's a short stalk of purple-blue flowers right over her heart. _Aconitum Napellus_ is what the internet tells her when she looks it up at home. _More commonly known as monkshood, wolfsbane, or aconite_. She frowns as she continues reading about its cultural significance. _Werewolves, werewolves, and highly poisonings._

Lydia thinks a toxic flower will suit her just fine.

-

Like all other born werewolves Peter’s first tattoo had been a moon; specifically a half-moon, done in exquisite Celtic knotwork, on his left shoulder. He remembers girlfriends tracing its many paths with fingers, lips, or tongues, and how everyone else on the basketball team kept incessantly asking about it.

That moon and all the others he’d acquired in life were burned away in the fire. And that had hurt, hurt more than the fire itself.

As the years pass he’s not sure if it’s that pain, or the loss of his family that drives him mad the most.

-

On good days Lydia thinks Stiles’ assumption that since they have similar tattoos that they’d be great together is adorable. Though she’d thought he’d be smart enough to know that Wolfsbane and Rowan represent two opposite sides of the human-plant paradigm. Wolfsbane kills people and Rowan supposedly protects them.

Not that his assumption is wrong, per say, those with similar tattoos usually do better together than those with dissimilar tattoos. However, Stiles isn’t at the top of the high school food chain and Jackson is.

Anyways her and Jackson have nearly matching crown tattoos, and that’s got to count for something.

-

Another full moon, another minuscule inch of healing.

Only this moon brings a few surprises with it. It's the first time since the fire that he walks on his own and he wants to howl with savage joy. In the bathroom he stares at his reflection; gone is the thirty year old who thought he'd figured everything out, and in his place is a scarred man who could be an Alpha if he got that final _push_.

He turns to go and pauses. The infinitesimally thin circle on his right shoulder would be near impossible for a human to see and it takes him a few moments to realize what it is.

A new moon, _silence, chaos and death_. Peter smiles.

-

On the whole Lydia rarely does her running at night. It only happens when she's well and truly pissed off at Jackson and running is a better way to get the anger out than screaming.

Usually she sticks to her neighborhood, but tonight she doesn't want to see perfect houses with perfect yards and filled with 'perfect' people. So she slips out through the back gate and jogs the short way to the bit of preserve that butts against the Breen's house. Patting her pockets to make sure she's got her mace and flashlight she snags her earbuds and wedges them into her ears. She flicks her Ithing on and turns it to her angry playlist. The pounding dubstep that fills her ears sets her off on a grueling pace down the path and she relishes it.

Four songs in the chilly September air is burning her lungs, her muscles are twitchy with ATP, and she's still pissed off that Jackson had the gall to break up with her. Oh she knows he'll come crawling back in a week or two tops, but it still rankled. The next song starts and she sprints deeper into the woods; maybe this time she'll even say no.

-

The full moon shines bright as he travels through the preserve back to his home, back to the reason he's fought tooth and claw to stay alive. _Revenge_.

For a moment all he smells is burning flesh and all he can here is screams. A faint, discordant racket pulls him out of the memory and he slowly turns trying to pinpoint the noise. Curiosity pulls him towards it when he does. As he gets closer other sounds reach him: the pounding of feet on a well worn path, sharp ragged breathing, a pounding heart.

It's easy to guess the path whoever it is is running on. Finding a good hiding spot he waits. The sounds turn the bend and a beautiful young woman accompanies them. She runs past, fire-blonde hair streaming behind her like a banner, and her scent fills his nose. There's the usual swirl of teenage hormones with a healthy dose of anger, an intriguing dark-spice that nearly bowls him over with is potency, and above everything the faintest dusting of deadly wolfsbane.

After she passes the next twist in the path he gets up and sprints to get ahead of her.

-

Lydia's almost at her mental turn around point when she sees the stranger jogging towards her. He's a bit shabbily dressed, but he doesn't scream 'I'm here to kidnap and torture young girls', she slips a hand into her jacket pocket anyways.

He slows slightly as he gets near and for a moment the air seems to burn her lungs even more than before as she gets a really good look at him. At the least he's twice her age, though the burn scars on his right side make him look older, none of that detracts from the fact that he's well and truly handsome. She wonders if he usually goes jogging at this hour every day, because she's tempted to start doing it herself.

By the time he reaches her he's just walking and she watches him mouth a word that's probably 'hello'. Her free hand raises up to yank out her earbuds so they're not stuck playing charades. “Good evening.”

He chuckles and gives her a deep smile. “Indeed. I don't think I've seen you around here before.” Hello, new jogging schedule. “I'm Peter,” he holds a hand out for her to shake, but she doesn't take it.

“And I'm not going to tell you my name,” she gives him her brightest smile.

The disappointed pout he gives is both amusing and a smidge terrifying. “I'm not sure if your parents are truly horrible people, or if that's an invitation to see you again.”

Terrifying and _clever_. Her smile turns mysterious. “I'm sure you'll figure it out.” She shoves her earbuds back in and starts running again, brushing against him as she passes him. _Something_ passes between them at the brief touch, and Lydia feels it warrants further experimentation, _next time_.

-

He watches her go with a smile. He had planned on luring Laura back to Beacon Hills and taking Alpha-hood by killing her, but that lovely little girl's opened up a whole new wealth of possibilities, ones that better suit him and are significantly less. . messy.

Peter whistles a bit of Mussorgsky as he goes back to his ruinous home; so many things to gather in such a short amount of time.

-

It isn't until she's in the shower that Lydia notices her new tattoo. The size of her fist, the half moon rests above her right hipbone. She stares at it for a moment before letting her hand trace the intricate knotwork that makes up the body of the moon. For a moment all she can hear is the sound of her blood pounding in her ears, when the world returns to normal she gives a start of surprise at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Just as she'd guessed a few days later Jackson sits next to her at lunch and throws his arm over her shoulder. She stares at it for a moment like it's a slime mold. "What do you think you're doing?"

The smile he gives her is a smug one. “Isn’t it obvious?” He leans down to give her a kiss and she shoves him away. She grabs his arm by the sleeve and pulls it over her; standing up she gives him her saccharine smile. “Do that again and I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

As she leaves the cafeteria falls silent, she’s just broken the status quo, nothing is sacred anymore.

-

To make things easier a few days after meeting that wonderful young Darkling, as he'd started to call her, he 'awakes' from his coma. Much to the displeasure of his nurse Jenny, who'd liked being the only one who knew; he knows he'd have to deal with her sooner or later, but she still has some use left in her.

The doctors make him stay a whole week to run completely unnecessary tests. But eventually they run out of tests and he's discharged from the hospital. At the front desk a woman with roots covering half her face, whose nametag reads 'Silvia', tells him, with pity and concern in her voice, that his niece and nephew hadn't left a forwarding _anything_ when they'd left town. He gives a sad nod and a quiet 'thank you', even though he couldn't care less about them right now.

Even though most of the fire insurance money had clearly gone towards paying his medical bills, a nice large lump sum waits for him when he re-opens his accounts. Adding to that is all of the money he inherited from all the dead Hales, plus the money he'd already had before the fire, meant he could live quite comfortably for a long while.

He goes a blows a quarter of it on a phone, a high-end laptop, and a motorcycle. Then he drives straight down to San Francisco to start collecting items for the upcoming ritual. _Sorry Darkling, looks like it might be a while_.

-

Lydia isn't willing to admit she's been getting more and more antsy the longer and longer she went without seeing Peter. She's not one to moon over some guy she hardly knew. Even though it had been two weeks the school still hasn't really recovered from her breaking up with Jackson, and their whispers and knowing looks only add to her aggravation. She corners Danny after school on Friday. "We're doing something tonight."

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you going to be more specific?"

She loops their arms together. "Don't worry it won't be shopping. But it _will_ probably involve getting drunk."

Danny sighs, "what's up with you Lydia, you've been acting weird since Jackson broke up with you."

Playfully she bumps their shoulders together. “I just feel like there's something missing in my life, and it's frustrating.”

“Like a boyfriend?”

She narrows her eyes. “You say Jackson and I are perfect for each other and I _will_ smack you.”

He holds his free hand up in a placating gesture. “Fine, fine. If you really feel the need to do something you can be my wingwoman at Jungle tonight.”

Lydia smiles and pushes up onto tippy-toes to peck him on the cheek. “See you later then!”

-

He'd forgotten how much white roes cost, the beast had nearly cost him an actual leg, but he'd managed to barter it down to a handful of memories of being trapped in his body after the fire; he had plenty of those to give away, and one pain was as good as the next for the Roma he'd purchased from.

Time to go home and see his little darkling again.

-

Her head's still pounding from last night when she goes out for her nightly jog. Her last because she's sick and tired of being disappointed. To spite her headache she picks her angry playlist and turns it louder than she normally likes, and when she starts running: pushes herself to go faster than usual.

She knows it's dangerous, but it feels good to ignore the world for a while. When she hits her halfway point she spins around and heads back home, yep, definitely her last night-run. Of course, that's when she sees Peter; walking down the past like he doesn't have a care.

Part of her wants to just keep running and no even acknowledge him when she passes, the rest of her want to give him a verbal smackdown _then_ run back home. Both are equally tempting.

In the end she decides to go with the former, more contemptuous that way. She sees him mouth 'hello' again and breezes right past; but she doesn't get far because he grabs her hand and it feels like she's being run through with a live current. Her ungraceful turn dislodges an earbud, meaning she actually has to listen to him now.

“Sorry.”

Well she'll give him being direct. “I just bet you are,” she should try a disdainful coo more often. “Now let me go, please.”

Peter gives a small sigh, but doesn't let go. “I _am_ sorry about not being here. Let me make it up to you. A date, your choice.”

His offer takes her by surprise for a moment, but if he's offering she's not going to refuse. “Breakfast, tomorrow morning at eight.” The smile she gives him is only _slightly_ evil. “The Bakery. You're paying.”

Peter tilts his head slightly in agreement, and gives a small smile. “Then I'll see you tomorrow.” He raises their still entwined hands and brushes his lips against her knuckles. “Until then little Darkling.”

Her focus seems to narrow to just him as he walks off. When he disappears around the corner the rest of the world rushes back in, and she staggers a bit from sensory overload. She gives herself a mental shake and jogs back home.

-

Peter has to remind himself that though he's short on time, he can't rush this. His little Darkling is the last part of the plan and he really can't afford to screw up at this point.

The Bakery is quickly becoming a flurry of activity when he arrives. He gets his name on the list and sits down to wait. Darkling still isn't there when the waitress calls his name; a swirl of disappointment and rage rises up in him and he just wants to find her and _hurt_ her.

The little bell above the door jingles as he gets up and Darkling walks in, a slight flush in her cheeks. She walks up to him and smiles. “Sorry I'm late. My mother apparently thought I needed more sleep and turned my alarm off.”

The rage dies down it it's usual simmer as they walk to their table. His inner gentleman, who somehow managed to survive the fire, has him helping her out of her coat and pulling out her seat. Her smile is sun-warm when he sits down across from her. 

Her dress, while also looking fantastic on her, shows off two of her tattoos. A small intricate crown of gold, silver, and jewels where shoulder meets neck on her right; his eyes move lower, enjoying for a moment her cleavage before sifting slightly left.

His heart stops beating for a pulse, two, before it starts racing. _Wolfsbane_. He doesn't know if he should laugh, cry, or kill something. Nothing in his plan really changes, but he'd so looked forward to biting her, to see his Darkling's eyes glow Alpha red.

“. . .call me that?”

Her voice yanks him out of his downward spiral. “Sorry, I was somewhere else.” He gives her his best 'sheepish apologetic' smile.

She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, he doesn't even need to smell the sudden influx of pepper to know she's angry. “Yes. This is totally making up for the past two and a half weeks. I was wondering why you call me Darkling.”

Ah. “Well we met in dark woods and it seemed to me you'd stepped straight out of the shadows.” No need to mention her intriguing dark-spice smell just yet.

Darkling raised an eyebrow. “Really? So you decided to pass up on everything else for that one?”

He gives her a toothy leer. “I've always prided myself on my creativity.”

Her pupils dilate slightly, her scent grows an extra bit of muskiness, and he can hear her heart and breathing pick up. Then the waiter comes with their waters and ruins it all. . .relatively speaking. 

After the man leaves Darkling ignores him in favor of perusing the menu. It may have been six year since he's been here but the menu's changed so little that he already knows what he's getting. With nothing better to do he watches her, if she notices she doesn't comment.

She sets her menu down. “Lydia.” He gives a questioning hum and she rolls her eyes. “My name's Lydia.”

He rubs his thumb over the back of her hand and chuckles. “I think Darkling suits you much better.”

-

Lydia goes home and does homework in a bit of a daze. Her mind still trying to wrap itself around Peter and their date; she wonders if she should tell him that she still has about five months before she turns eighteen.

Before they'd parted Peter'd asked if they could meet again tonight, and she'd just barely agreed. More because of her own burgeoning lust than out of real fear of him. Though that doesn't mean she doesn't double check to make sure she has her mace when she finally leaves.

Her parents don't even notice, too caught up in their newest petty argument.

Peter meets her at their usual spot with a small smile on his face. He offers her his arm as she approaches. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?” She crosses her arms.

It's hard to tell if the sigh he gives is one of exasperation or amused annoyance. “I'm not going to hurt you.” His eyes somehow darken _and_ brighten. “I may want to do many things to you, but extraneous harm isn't one of them.”

A rush of heat flows through her courtesy of her libido. Mentally reassuring herself that she has mace and her phone she takes his arm. He leads her deeper into the woods, and despite the lack of light he somehow manages to avoid any trees or pitfalls.

The clearing they finally stop at is only slightly better lit than the woods. Her eyes manage to pick out a darker shadow in what little she can see and she pulls out her flashlight. Flicking it on she points it at the darker space, and stares as the beam illuminates charred wood.

“This is my home.”

Lydia starts as his voice breaks their relatively companionable silence, but she can't find it in her look away. “You live here?” There's something significant about that, she just can't put her finger on it quite yet.

“Lived, until it was burned down with me and the rest of my family in it.”

The last piece clicks into place and she finally turns to face him. “You're a Hale.”

A bitter smile twists his lips and makes his burns stretch grotesquely. “Yes, I have that misfortune.”

She finds herself speechless, really what _can_ you say to that?

“I wanted you to see this so you'd understand?”

The flashlight beam bounces around wildly and she curls her arms around herself, it feels far too cold for October. “Understand?”

“Understand what's going to happen in the next few months, and why I want your help.”

“Help with what?”

He smiles. “Don't worry I'm not asking you to kill anyone.”

“Hardly reassuring.”

“What if I told you I wasn't completely human?”

She gives him an incredulous look. “I'd say your either delusional or this is some sort of elaborate prank on Jackson's part.”

He laughs. “I'm many things Darkling, delusional is not one of them. And believe me when I say I have no idea who you're talking about.”

“Then prove it.” She shifts the flashlight again so it's pointing at his lower face and makes a 'go on' gesture.

Peter closes his eyes and his face seems to _ripple:_ growing more hair, getting tighter, she's pretty sure she even saw a few bones shift. When he opens his eyes they're not their usual worn denim, instead they're neon blue, and for a moment she feels like a spotted dear. He smiles and there are _fangs_. “I could howl if you like.”

Lydia hates paradigm shifts, especially her own. “Werewolves?”

He's right next to her a moment later, his face is back to normal and he's gently gripping her shoulders. “Indeed. I'm only a Beta though, and that's where you come in.”

The warmth of his hands is surprisingly steady. “Help with what?” She repeats.

“I want to be an Alpha.”


	2. Chapter 2

There's an amusing strangeness to being invited to a Halloween party and actually going. He'd been quite popular in high school, but parties had never been his thing and there'd always been pups to watch, cider and mead to lay down, butchering, or any other number of tasks needed done in a large pack.

Pack's the reason he's there though, he might still be a Beta but Lydia is part of _his_ pack, not Laura's, and the party will give him a chance to find potential Betas for when he finally does achieve Alpha. So he might not have a costume, but he comes.

Lydia answers the door in a pale blue-grey peplos with a plastic sword at her side and her fire-blonde hair pinned up in a wonderfully elaborate fashion. She smiles. “Peter. You're not dressed up.”

He resists the urge to find her irritation adorable. The smile he gives her in return has a hint of fang and he lets his eyes go brighter-blue. “I'm a vampire.”

She rolls her eyes, but her scent flushes with amusement and affection. “Of course, the red shirt's a dead giveaway. Now come inside.”

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the various conflicting light sources but he manages just fine. They're alone in the foyer and Peter doesn't hesitate to scoop Lydia up, her aborted shriek of protest makes him smile. A pleased hum starts coming from her as he rubs his face against her neck and jaw; pleasantly surprised when she returns the favor.

Peter opens his mouth to ask but she's already answering. “I've been doing research.”

He nuzzles the top of her head, “I love a woman who's prepared.” She reeks of pleasure and even in the poor lighting he can see her neck flush. “Speaking of which, who are you?”

“The goddess Athena.”

Someone knocks on the door, meaning there's no more chance of witty banter about her being the goddess of wisdom and war. She gives him a nudge with her hip. “Go lurk Mr. Vampire.”

He goes.

-

After the last person leaves Lydia lets herself gratefully collapse onto a couch next to Peter. She gives a small start when his hands touch her back and start gently pushing, but then he hits a knot of muscles and. . . _oh._ “You stop now and I will kill you.”

His chuckle fills her ear. “Noted.” He presses deeper and she finds herself embarrassed by the small moan that escapes her. Peter redoubles his efforts, the bastard.

_Focus_. “So did you have a good time?”

“On the whole the company you keep left a lot to be desired. Though I did find a few possible Betas.”

“Mmmm, shitty friends are the price I pay for popularity. Who'd you single out?” 

“I don't know their names Darkling, I'm not one of your teachers yet. Shall I describe them to you O Popular One?” A finger brushes the side of her breast as he moves lower.

“Snotty will get you thrown out, big bad wolf or not, Peter. And I hope you're giving me veto, because some of the people here would make shit werewolves, but yes describe.”

He laughs again, “it amazes me how well you've taken to this. I'll think about the veto.” His hands reach the small of her back and curve around her waist. “There was a knight, a young man who look like he'd come straight from a Luau, and the Scarecrow.”

Lydia lets herself lean back into him. “The knight was Boyd, he's a senior and he does well enough grade-wise a lot of people are terrified of him so he always sits alone. Second one's Danny, he's second in the school, but he's more than happy to let me be number one, he's on the lacrosse team and he's a fairly good hacker. The last one,” she sighs. “That would be Stiles, he might be third in the school but he's way below Danny and I because his ADHD won't let him focus, the irony of his costume is not lost on me. He's on the lacrosse team too, but he's only a benchwarmer; though he's driven I'll give him that, he's had a crush on me since third grade and he hasn't given up hope yet.”

Peter kisses the crown of her head. “Do you catalog everyone by their grades and GPA?”

A soft snort escapes her. “Of course, I intend to set the record and keep it for a good long time. And I can't believe you're thinking about turning Stiles, he's a spazz with no social skills.”

He pulls her fully onto his lap. “Much like you Lydia I feel there's more to Stiles than meets the eye.”

With a huff, she rested her head on his shoulder. “If you say so.”

“I do, now about Monday. . .”

-

His Darkling hadn't liked being left alone by the alter blindfolded, he'd made sure she understood the 'why's but everything about her had still told him she wasn't happy.

That, and any other thoughts, leave him when he catches scent of the roe. He shifts, and begins the hunt.

 

 

 

Fifteen minutes later he carries it into the alter clearing and deposits it on said alter. Lydia spins, a small frown on her face. “Peter?”

“I'm here,” it's a bit more brisk than he'd intended, but he can't coddle her right now. He shifts to claws again and slits the roe's throat, letting the blood flow down to the small basin to mix with the herbs he'd put in earlier. 

Gently he leads her to the basin and has her kneel, himself going to the other side and mimicking her. “You're at the edge of a small pool, I need you to dip your hands in and take three drinks.”

He can't help feeling proud when she does so without argument. Then he does the same and the world goes hazy.

-

Lydia awakes in her bed, naked. . .with an equally naked Peter curled up next to her. She enjoys the view for a minute or so, since he isn't awake to be smug about it, there's a small burst of surprise to see that nearly all his burns are gone, but it's quickly pushed aside for a bigger issue. She shoves his shoulder. “Please tell me we didn't have drugged werewolf sex.”

He blinks at her a few times, eyes still muzzy with sleep, as if he didn't understand her. _Right now_ , she realizes, _I could do anything and I don't think you could stop me_. A power rush if there ever was one. The moment vanishes when his eyes clear and she watches him inhale deeply. “We don't smell like sex.”

An awkward laugh escapes her. “Awesome, so why are we naked?”

The one shoulder shrug he gives nearly makes her giggle, but she holds it in. “The Land preferred it? It's more natural? Or any number of. . .”

“Peter?”

His too-warm hand lands on her side, covering her half-moon. “When did you get this?”

She frowns. “The night that we met, why?”

Peter shifts himself, hand gone only to be replaced by his face. The last bit of burn catching slightly on her tattoo. “Moons are the wolves' mark, and before the fire this one was mine.”

“That's impossible. Never in recorded history have two people ever had the exact same tattoo.” Her mind's scrambling, impossibilities waking it better than any amount of caffeine could. 

“' I always try to believe in seven impossible things before breakfast.' I don't know what you might be little Darkling, but you're wolf enough for the moon.”

Lydia feels like she should protest, she'd been perfectly fine with being a human in a pack, but this. . .she doesn't know what to think of this.

Peter's eyes change to cherry red and he smiles up at her. “Welcome to the pack Lydia, my Darkling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ufff, and done.
> 
> One day, in the far future this may continue into a series. But that day will be long in coming because I seriously have so many other writing projects on my hands right now it's not even funny.


End file.
